


we'll have to muddle through somehow

by pocky_slash



Series: Team Shithead [5]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Families of Choice, Family Issues, Gen, Graduate School, Holidays, M/M, Male Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 11:57:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9122476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocky_slash/pseuds/pocky_slash
Summary: All John wanted to do was watch some traditional Christmas movies and spend his first weekend off relaxing, but between Alex's questions and Lafayette's sudden temper, maybe he should have just stayed in bed.(AKA John introduces Alex to the Muppets and Lafayette has some feelings.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year, folks!
> 
> If it's your first day, [maybe check out the rest of the series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/542227). If that seems like a lot of work (I don't blame you for thinking this), just know that the guys are in graduate school studying ghosts and ghost hunting in a world where that's a respected science. If it's NOT your first day, this takes place the weekend before Christmas 2014, right after "i saw the whole story unwind" and before "the air grows cold around me and you."
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's still reading this series. I know I say that every time but I MEAN IT every time. I'm still slowly filling requests and working on the next anchor story, I promise. This was as requested by...someone, I don't remember who. They wanted more of Lafayette's feelings about Adrienne and someone else wanted more Lafayette in general. John and Alex's banter sort of took over the beginning /o\
> 
> Title from "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas," obvs. #TeamMuddleThrough

When John gets back from the gym, Alex is still wearing his glasses and fidgeting with the coffeemaker, a sure sign that he’s only just woken up. It’s nearly ten on a Saturday, which is actually a little late for Alex, but it _is_ the start of their winter break. The idea of Alex taking a break is nearly comical, but John knows he has no place to judge—Wednesday was John’s last day at the library and on Thursday he slept until nearly noon just because he could.

Alex looks like shit—bags under his eyes, hair in disarray, face criss-crossed with pillow creases—but John’s cheerful and affectionate after the endorphin spike of a five-mile run and also hopelessly in love despite his best efforts otherwise. He greets Alex with a warm embrace from behind, leaning against his back as he finally finishes with the coffeemaker and hits the start button.

"Good morning, starshine," Alex says with perhaps not as much sarcasm as he intended. "I can’t fucking believe you’re up this early."

"I went to the gym," John murmurs, nosing behind his ear.

"You stumble half-asleep into the lab most days, but your first weekend off and you’re up at the asscrack of dawn."

"I went to the gym," John repeats. "If I’m going to the gym, I’ve either gotta go first thing or last thing. Any other time and it fucks up the whole day."

"There’s nothing to fuck up, we’re on vacation," Alex says, as if he’s not going to spend the whole day writing articles for his blog.

"It fucks up my sense of time."

"Vacation," Alex repeats. He tilts his head, inviting John to continue to explore his neck. "What could you possibly be planning on doing today?"

"You need to shave," John says. Which is both the truth and a gift to Alex’s vanity—he spent a month last semester trying futilely to grow a goatee. It’s rare that he gets stubbly enough to bother John. "And, movies or something."

"Mm," Alex says. "Movies in or movies out? Or _movies_?" 

John can feel the minute twitch in Alex’s muscles indicating his eyebrow waggle. "Regular movies in. If I was gonna watch porn, I’d probably invite you."

"Am I not invited?" 

"I figured you’d be working."

Before they can get any further in either the conversation or the slow morning seduction, Lafayette comes trudging into the kitchen, stretching and yawning as he slips past them.

"No sex in the kitchen," he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.

"We’re not having sex," Alex says, even as he reaches back to tug futilely at the hairtie holding John’s wet curls back in a bun.

"Then please continue not having sex," Laf says and rummages in the cabinets to find breakfast.

"We’re gonna have so much sex in the kitchen while he’s in France," Alex says to John in a whisper that’s plenty loud enough for Lafayette to hear. John bites gently on a stretched tendon in his throat and Alex laughs breathlessly, the bright, almost nervous, laugh that he gets when John's affections catch him by surprise.

"I'm not in France yet," Laf mutters. He grabs a banana and a muffin and then leaves the kitchen again. He doesn't even wait for the coffee to finish brewing.

"What the hell is his problem?" Alex asks.

John shrugs. They're not acting any more or less flirty than usual. They're both fully clothed and Alex is still half asleep, so it's not as if they're ready to strip each other down where they stand.

"End of the semester?" John suggests. "He's been busy—maybe he's tired?"

"Maybe," Alex says doubtfully. "Whatever. Let's circle back around to me not being invited to watch movies with you."

"It's not that you're not invited...." 

Alex turns around so that he's leaning back against the counter and facing John head-on. He blinks sleepily at John from behind his glasses, pouting magnificently. John wants to kiss him.

And not just because it will stop this mildly embarrassing conversation. 

"Seriously," John insists. "I just thought. Um. You wouldn't be interested?" 

"In spending time with my precious boyfriend, the light of my life?" Okay, now he's laying it on a little thick. "The sole bright spot in a world hurtling towards the long darkness of a bleak winter? My only joy in a...I don't know, something something, I haven't had coffee yet."

The laugh bubbles out of John unbidden. "You're a fucking lunatic."

"But I'm your fucking lunatic. And you're avoiding the question." Alex pokes John square in the chest. "Are you watching something embarrassing?"

"No!" John says. Then, "Okay, yes, maybe?" It's not like he can keep secrets from Alex for long. Not secrets like this. "It's so stupid. Seriously. I just—I was gonna watch some dumb Christmas movies."

Alex doesn't laugh immediately, just cocks his head, intrigued. "Dumb Christmas movies?"

"Yeah. Just...the Muppets and maybe Charlie Brown. You know."

Alex blinks at him, devoid of any recognition. "And those are about Christmas?"

" _A Muppet Christmas Carol_?" John clarifies. " _A Charlie Brown Christmas_? Two of the most famous dumb Christmas specials?"

John can see the exact moment Alex goes from curious to defensive. He stiffens and manages to back away, even in the limited space between John and the counter. "Well, sorry, but I fucking grew up in another country with more important issues on my mind—"

"I'm sorry, no, of course—" He's a fucking _idiot_ , this is their stupid conversation about how Alex hasn't seen _Star Wars_ all over again. He promised himself he'd be better about this, he'd be less thoughtless.

"—there were other things—"

"No, no, I know," John says in a rush. He grabs Alex's hands and there's a moment of resistance, a split second when John thinks Alex is going to pull out of John's grip.

It's just a moment. Alex relaxes minimally, lets John lace their fingers together. He's still looking at John warily, but he doesn't try to interrupt further.

"I'm sorry," John says again. "That makes sense, of course it makes sense. I'm sorry, I'm—trying to be less of an asshole." He exhales and pushes back the impulse to let go of Alex and run his hands through his hair in frustration. 

Alex nods slowly and squeezes John's fingers. "You're not an asshole. I mean—you are, you're totally an asshole, but not about this. It's not like you're doing it deliberately, it's just...thoughtless."

John flinches, even though it's the same word he just used himself. He opens his mouth to say something else—he's not sure what, yet, and already regrets whatever it's going to be—but the coffeemaker saves him by beeping its completed cycle. Alex glances over his shoulder automatically, eyes widened in joy, and it's such a dumb Alex thing to do that the churning in John's stomach finally ceases. 

"Let's put this on pause," Alex says. "Everything will be so much better if we have coffee."

"Good idea."

He kind of hates letting go of Alex—both because he always wants to be close to Alex and because the conversation feels unfinished—but he takes a step back and releases Alex's hands and turns to take the milk out of the fridge while Alex pulls some mugs down from the cabinet. They shift around and pass mugs and coffee and sugar back and forth and then sit down at the kitchen table facing each other. John misses the intimacy of leaning against the counter, but it's a little easier to talk without that intensity.

"So," Alex says. "Before that shitshow, you were gonna tell me about puppets and Charlie Brown."

"Muppets," John corrects automatically. Alex scrunches his nose up and then has to push his glasses back up and it's gross how cute John finds that. "The Muppets are like...hard to explain. Do you know Big Bird?"

"Big yellow thing? Sesame Street?"

"Yes!" John says excitedly. "Yes—Sesame Street is Muppets. Kermit the Frog?"

Alex frowns. "That sounds vaguely familiar?"

"Okay." John can work with this. "So you know the general idea? These puppet things interacting with humans as if they're real?" Alex nods. "Okay, so _Muppet Christmas Carol_ is just the story of Dickens' _A Christmas Carol_ , but acted out by Muppets, with a British actor playing Scrooge. There are songs—it's cheesy, but it's sweet. My, um—"

Right. The whole reason he didn't want to have this conversation in the first place.

"—my siblings and I used to watch it together," John manages to say. Alex's focus sharpens. He's drinking out of John's Harvard Class of '14 mug and the steam from the coffee has fogged the bottom of his glasses. He doesn't even seem to notice, he's so fixated on John. "It was kind of like a tradition? I don't know—there were some years there I didn't spend Christmas with my family, but these last five or so years...." He trails off and looks down into his coffee. They're both quiet for a moment, then Alex kicks his ankle under the table.

"Charlie Brown?" he asks.

John clears his throat. "Uh, you know Snoopy?"

"Oh, yeah!" Alex says with a little more enthusiasm than he had for Big Bird.

"That's Charlie Brown. Or—the Peanuts. Charlie Brown is Snoopy's owner."

"And that's _A Christmas Carol_ too?"

"No, it's an original story—Charlie Brown is working on a pageant about the story of Christmas and he's upset because the holiday has become too commercial," John explains. "It's cute."

Alex doesn't look convinced, but he nods anyway. Alex has trained himself over the past few months to go along with things John wants that don't interest him. John's fairly sure he thinks it's much less obvious when he employs these techniques than it is in actuality. Alex may be terrible at schooling his emotions, but just the idea that he'd work so hard to try for John is sweet enough that John pretends he doesn't notice.

"Anyway!" John blusters ahead, because this conversation has already gone on far too long. "I figured you'd be writing all day, so I thought I'd watch those to kill some time, but if you weren't planning on writing we can totally—"

"I can multi-task," Alex says. "I can watch Christmas movies with you _and_ write."

"They're dumb," John warns him.

"Your face is dumb," Alex says.

"You love my face!"

"Those two things are not mutually exclusive."

John bites back his smile and kicks Alex under the table. Alex kicks back and they're halfway into a vicious kick fight when they hear Lafayette approaching from the hallway.

"I said no sex in the kitchen!" he calls into them.

"We're not having sex, we're beating the shit out of each other," Alex assures him.

"Oh. Carry on, then, I suppose." Lafayette walks past them to put his dishes in the sink, then leaves again. They can hear him rustling around the living room, and finally there's the distinct sound of his coat zipping up and then the opening and closing of their front door.

"It's not just me, he's being weird, right?" Alex asks after a moment of silence.

"Not just you. Who knows—maybe he's not feeling great. How much did he have to drink last night?"

Alex shrugs. "Less than us? He was only there a couple hours longer than we were and he drove himself home, so he must have stopped drinking by the time we left."

"And we're being, you know, normal? Right?"

"Well, you got up at the crack of dawn to go to the gym and I slept in late, so no," Alex says. "But we're not being more, like...coupley than usual or anything."

John hums in agreement, staring out into the hallway. There's definitely something weird going on with Laf, but it's the holidays. Everyone is weird around the holidays. Even Alexander, who has no set family traditions, no real family, and no particular attachment to the Christmas season had been weird until the two of them figured out their Christmas plan. 

"He's probably just antsy to get back to France," Alex says. "He's been here since, what, May? June? That's six or seven months away. I can't imagine living that far away from you for six months and I've known you since August. Laf and Adrienne have known each other practically since they were babies."

It's just a supporting comment to explain his point—Laf's probably pining—but John flushes a little anyway. Six months away from Alex would break his heart, and knowing Alex feels the same is a fresh thrill. He doesn't know that he'll ever get used to the way his stomach flips when Alex compliments him or praises him or declares so plainly his affection. 

"Do you want to take a shower or anything before I put on a movie, or are you ready to go?" John asks.

"Let me put in my contacts." Damn. John was kind of hoping that Alex would keep his glasses on. "I'll just be a minute."

Alex is, as promised, back in only a minute or two, just enough time for John to top off their coffees, open up his laptop, and drag some blankets out from their bed and over to the couch. It takes another minute or so for the blu-ray player and John's laptop to talk to each other, but soon enough he's loading up _A Charlie Brown Christmas_ and letting Alex snuggle up against his side, his own laptop open and occupying half his attention as the Peanuts gang ice skates and sings along to Vince Guaraldi.

* * *

Alex abandons his laptop towards the end of _A Charlie Brown Christmas_ and he and John start _A Muppet Christmas Carol_ full-on cuddling. He's not even trying to make a pass or put his hands anywhere R-rated, which impresses John—he's got his arms around John, one leg thrown over his lap, and they're wrapped up in the fleece blanket and crocheted throw from their bed.

It's really, really nice. Nicer even, as blasphemous as it feels to admit, than watching with his siblings last year.

"So, here's my question." The movies have been peppered with Alex's questions, which are roughly half filling in his pop cultural knowledge and half making critical observations about the franchises as a whole. "Frogs are amphibians and pigs are mammals, so, the fact that half their kids are full-on frogs and half are full-on pigs aside, they don't have the right sex organs to even—"

John wiggles one of his hands free of the blanket nest and covers Alex's mouth. "We're not talking about Kermit and Miss Piggy having sex."

Alex's fingers encircle his wrist and pull his hand down. "If the movie didn't want us to think about it, it wouldn't have presented us with their interspecies marriage."

"They're playing parts!" John says. "That's—it's meta, the Muppets are performers in-universe, so the idea is that we're watching a version of _A Christmas Carol_ where those performers have been cast in the parts of Bob Cratchit and Fezziwig and all that."

"But they're supposed to be together out of character, right?" Alex presses.

"Babe, if you think relationships are less valid if they can't viably produce offspring, I have some bad news for you."

"I only love you for your wide, child-bearing hips," Alex manages to say before they both crack up.

Alex settles back against him after that, his head tucked against John's shoulder. It's domestic as fuck and definitely one hundred percent nicer than last year with his siblings.

They've barely drifted into the beginning of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come when the door opens and Laf returns from whatever secret errand he had been on. They both crane their necks to watch him slowly take off his coat and scarf, then wander into the living room. He looks—well, John's not sure. He's never seen Laf look like this before. It's something between sad and mad and blank, a half-assed attempt at masking his feelings.

"Hey, Laf," John says carefully. "What's up?"

He shrugs and busies himself pulling his phone out of his pocket. 

"We’re watching some puppets do _A Christmas Carol_ ," Alex says.

"I know you’re purposely saying ‘puppets’ instead of ‘Muppets’ to bait me."

"Slander!"

Laf looks back and forth between them, his expression unchanging.

"You should join us," John says.

"Yeah, it's Christmas. I'm under the impression this is the time of year when cuddling sappily with your loved ones is encouraged." Alex holds open the corner of the blanket invitingly. 

"I'm not interested in playing your sex games," Laf says. Laf says things like that all the time—rolls his eyes and informs them he doesn't swing that way or that he'd never want to share a bed with two people as obsessed with each other as Alex and John are. He jokes about it. His tone today is not joking. It's almost...mean.

"Hey, no sex involved," Alex says. "We're totally G-rated. We're just cuddling, bro."

Laf is still frowning at them. "I have things to do," he says, and stalks off to the hallway before either of them can say anything further.

"He's definitely acting weird," Alex says. "And we're definitely acting normal. So whatever it is, it's all him." He's primed to get up and chase after Lafayette, demand to know what's wrong. John is intimately familiar with the determined set to his jaw, having been on the receiving end of it just about every other day since they met. Twice a day when things are particularly emotionally fraught.

However, he also knows that while he needs to have his feelings beat out of him to maintain a healthy relationship with his tactless, bull-headed boyfriend, Lafayette is a bit more emotionally nuanced. John seizes Alex's wrist before he can run off.

"Let him go," he says gently. "Let him have a feeling or five and if he's still weird by dinner, I'll talk to him. I speak Lafayette better than you do."

"I speak— _oh_." Alex cuts himself off, grinning. It's a small, lop-sided expression so unlike his usual cocky smile that John can't help but automatically smile in response, before Alex can even explain what's so funny. "I was gonna say I speak French better than you do, but I get it." He nestles back up against John and returns his attention to the television. "You're right, though. You do speak Lafayette better than I do."

John turns the movie back on and then pulls the blankets back up around them. Alex's head rests on his shoulder again, warm and close, and a moment or two goes by before he says, quietly, "I speak a pretty good John Laurens though, right?"

"The best," John promises him. He means it, too, which should be sad—he's only known Alex for four months, and it's not like he never had friends before. But there's something about Alex that called out to him the moment they met. There's something about Alex that spoke to something inside of him in a language only the two of them understand. He's had friends before, he's had boyfriends, he has sisters who love him, but none of them have ever been able to answer the call of his heart the way that Alex has from the very first night they met.

It's an unforgivably sappy thing to think, let alone admit, but it's nearly Christmas—John is cuddling on the couch with his boyfriend, watching the Muppets. He's allowed to be a little maudlin today.

And with that in mind, he thinks, _What the hell_ and gives into the desire to press a kiss right to the crown of Alex's head and whisper, "love you" softly into his hair. Alex doesn't respond, but he shifts impossibly closer without looking away from the television, and a moment later, his hand finds John's under the blanket.

Their fingers lace together as they finish watching the movie.

* * *

After the movie (and the five minutes in the aftermath they spend sitting on the couch, cuddling and valiantly pretending that they're not sniffling), Alex returns his full attention to writing blog articles and John takes his camera and sketchbook into town, killing a few hours and practicing drawing subjects in motion with the help of a steady stream of peppermint mochas. He feels like the embodiment of a cliche—wearing a MUNJ hoodie, sitting at a table in a coffeeshop drawing and sipping an overpriced espresso drink for hours at a time. It's a good place for this kind of practice, though. It's too cold to sit out on the green, and the transient nature of most of the coffeeshop clientele means he has to embrace his first instincts and work quickly instead of obsessing over every detail the way he's prone to doing in normal circumstances.

He heads back to the apartment once the sun begins to set. It's only just after four, but he picks up burritos on his way home because they don't have much in the house and Alex has likely not eaten anything all day. He hesitates before ordering Laf's usual—there's a chance he'll have left again—but does it anyway in the end. If Laf doesn't want it tonight, he might want it tomorrow, and if he doesn't want it at all, Alex will gladly eat it at three A.M. when he realizes it's late and he's hungry.

Back at the apartment, Alex has actually showered, wonder upon wonder. His hair is down and his glasses are on, which John figures is the universe wishing him a Merry-almost-Christmas. He's lying on his stomach on the living room floor, eating gummy bears and frowning at his laptop, and he grunts in greeting when John straddles him and sits on his thighs.

"What do you want, asshole?" Alex asks.

"I brought you a burrito."

Alex looks over his shoulder with wide, grateful eyes. "Light of my life. Prince among men. Too good for this world."

"That's more like it."

Alex shifts his hips, trying to wiggle out from under John, and John gives in and rolls off of him, lying on his back on the ground, staring up at the ceiling and stretching against the carpet. Alex doesn't make any move to go for the burrito bag, but he rolls over onto his back next to John, close enough that their shoulders touch.

"Did you get much done?" John asks.

"This and that. Not as much as I wanted to get done—I've got writer's block on the stupid year-end summary thing and my idea for the chemistry feature fizzled out. Traffic's usually slow at the start of January anyway, but right now I don't have any major posts or topics planned outside of the usual weekly slate."

"Weren't you saying you wanted to do something on diversity?" 

"Yeah," Alex says, "but I was thinking maybe February. I want to really dig deep into that and it's hard to wrangle people for that kind of in-depth interview around the holidays and the start of the new semester. But, hey, do you think Washington would agree to an interview for that?"

John hums thoughtfully and turns the idea around in his head a few times. "I think he would, but I think you should treat him like any other interview. Email him the request from your Athenodorus address and all that. If he wants to sit and chat about it in the office or at dinner or whatever, that's fine, but wait for him to bring it up outside of email."

"Right," Alex says. "That's a good point."

"And as for January," John continues, "I don't know. I know it's supposed to be the start of the new year, but January and February always feel kind of sad to me. End of the holidays, being forced to confront all the things you hoped you'd do by December 31st and inevitably failed to accomplish."

"You're a ray of fucking sunshine," Alex says. "My birthday is in January."

"Then we'll liven the doom and gloom up with a party," John says. He turns his head slightly to grin sheepishly at Alex. "After the fucking spectacle that you helped Laf unleash on me for my birthday, you deserve a little payback."

"Except I love parties, so you'll really just be doing me a favor."

"Why am I not surprised? Any chance to celebrate yourself...." 

Alex laughs and elbows John, but he doesn't argue, which is telling. After a moment, though, his eyes go unfocused, his lips slowly turning down into a frown. He's thinking—John is always amazed by Alex's ability to multi-task, to think about fifteen different problems at once and solve six of them simultaneously. He's turning the January scheduling problem over and over in his mind, looking for a solid solution. He could just run his regular scheduled weekly articles and updates in January, but John knows he'll never agree to that. He wouldn't be Alex if he wasn't going above and beyond, coming up with new ways to make work for every shortcut he devises.

John reaches over to pet his hair, which is still cool and damp from his shower. "What I was getting at is that maybe you could do something that harnesses a different type of reflection. I haven't read a ton on people who get into parapsych work because of personal tragedy, but I know there's a pretty sizable subset. People who are hoping to see their loved ones or started because they _did_ see their loved ones or just want to see what the afterlife is like to make sure their loved ones are okay. January might be a good time for that kind of thing."

Alex leans into John's fingers and hums softly. John can see his mind whirling at speeds he can hardly contemplate. He taps his fingers steadily against the carpet and worries his lower lip with his teeth.

"I'd have to start now," Alex says slowly. "If I can nail down a handful for people who fit all three of those categories, I can do one feature a week on each. Start the first week of January with an overview, then go through each of the next three weeks and maybe wrap it up on the last Friday of the month." His voice speeds up as he speaks, as the plan slots into place. "Not a lot of photos I can get that relate unless people want to give me some personal pictures. Nothing I can send you out to get, either. Is there anyone we know we can mine for content?" He looks over at John for the first time. "Shit, it never even occurred to me to ask—your mom and all that."

Strangely, John's never really thought much about it in relation to his own loss either. The first time he encountered a child's spirit, he had a fleeting thought about James—if he had stayed, would it have been at the estate? Or maybe at the chalet in Telluride—James had loved ski trips, loved the snow. The thoughts of James had made him think of his mother and even of his mother's brother who died when John was only five, but who used to tell him the best stories and bring him the best gifts.

He never lingered on those thoughts. If any of his dead family remains in this world, they haven't shown themselves to him. He'd rather make himself believe that they've moved on than bury himself under the possibility that they're here and don't think he deserves to see them.

"No, there wasn't any correlation," John says. "I didn't get into parapsych until way after my mom died. I know I've told you that story—followed a cute boy into a meeting because I was too awkward to tell him I had a crush on him. Once I was there, it just...fascinated me. The whole discipline. It felt new and exciting and right in a way that not a lot of other things ever had." Alex nods, or, well, the closest approximation to a nod that he can manage as he lays on the ground. "What about you?"

"Nah," Alex says. "I mean, I thought about it a couple times when I first started, but that was one of the first things that Mr. Stevens said to me when I started working with him—if I was getting interested in parapsych because I wanted to see my mom again, it would be best if I stopped immediately, because obsessing over things like that would only leave me fucked up about the whole thing. Well. More fucked up."

"I don't know what you're talking about, you're perfectly sane and normal," John says guilelessly, and barely manages to dodge when Alex reaches out to smack him. 

"You're such a shithead."

"Mmhm. Anyway, I think Molly said that Jamika McHenry's dad died when she was young and that sort of sparked her interest, but she doesn't know about your double life, so we'd have to come up with a way to get her in."

"Yeah," Alex says. He settles down again. "I don't know if there's anyone who knows the truth who can help out. I've never asked Burr, and he could go either way. His family is old school parapsych, but they also all died when he was a kid. Herc's in it cause it's the family business, Washington stumbled into it by accident, and Laf—"

John pauses as well. He's never asked Lafayette, never thought to probe what got him into parapsych. His parents died when he was young, too—jesus, all four of them in Washington's lab are a fucking pit of tragic circumstances—and John honestly isn't sure how they fit into Laf's passion for this work.

"Well," Alex says. "If Laf stops being fucking weird, I'll ask him, I guess."

"I got him a burrito too," John says. "Is he here?"

"Oh, right!" Alex sits up. "Burritos! God, you're the fucking best boyfriend, you know that?"

"I am aware that when I'm holding food I become the best boyfriend, yes," John says dryly.

Alex waves his hand dismissively. "You love me."

"I tolerate you."

Alex twists around and straddles John's lap, dropping down so his ass sits on John's groin, which is definitely not an accident. He rests his hands on John's chest and glares down at him. "I'm the fucking light of your life, Laurens."

"Nice alliteration."

Alex rolls his eyes and shifts and soon he's stretched out over John, pinning his wrists to the carpet, which might be John's favorite position in the entire world. He's always had a thing for that kind of low-key restraint, but with Alex it's rocketed from a vague, minor kink to something that steals the breath from his lungs and turns him on so fast he gets dizzy. He hasn't taken the time to dissect it—it's probably a control thing, John is one hundred percent aware that he has some control issues—but his feelings for Alex color it in a very particular way. The fact that it's _Alex_ holding him down, Alex's hands on his wrists, Alex's weight on his thighs...he trusts Alex and he loves Alex and he knows that Alex knows exactly how to take him apart and exactly how to take care of him.

"You're such an asshole," Alex murmurs, but his voice has gone low and warm. John shudders and flexes his fingers. He wants to give in—give Alex a line, buck his hips, let his mind go cloudy with arousal and desire, get Alex to put his mouth on John—but Laf is pissed at them already. He shouldn't let his dinner get cold and he probably shouldn't let Alex strip him and fuck him in the middle of the living room.

"I know," John says. "And this makes me doubly an asshole, but you've gotta get off of me for a minute."

"I'll get off, alright," Alex says, but John wiggles his right wrist free and taps Alex's thigh.

"I'm serious."

Alex sighs and sits up. With his glasses on and his hair in his face and his overly large hoodie, he's reminiscent of a petulant teenager.

"I'll be back in like, ten minutes and you can do whatever you want to me," John assures him, pinching his cheek. He just scowls harder.

"Fine," he says. "But I've got pretty big plans, just so you know. My ass isn't on your dick for my health." Then he frowns thoughtfully. "Although, circling back around to this morning and your gym fetish, I guess sex is really the best exercise I get once the weather gets shitty and I stop riding my bike, so riding your dick probably does positively benefit my health."

John has to swallow a laugh and fight back the wave of fondness that washes over him. Alex and his stupid brain and his stupid habit of overthinking everything and his stupid face that John loves so fucking much it's kind of embarrassing.

He nudges Alex off of him and sits up. "You're an idiot," he says, and kisses Alex quickly on the mouth. "I'll be right back, okay? I'm just gonna bring Laf his dinner and see if he's still pissed at us."

"Fiiiiiiine," Alex repeats. He flops back onto his back, but not before snatching the burrito John hands him and cradling it close to his chest.

Alex is fucking weird sometimes, and those moments are, embarrassingly, when John might love him the most.

The hallway is quiet as John approaches Lafayette's room. He knocks tentatively on the door, then harder when there's no response.

"Hey, Laf? Are you home?"

He waits for one long, drawn out minute, and is about to go throw himself at Alex's mercy when Lafayette clears his throat on the other side of the door.

"Come in," he says. 

John hasn't spent much time in Laf's room—he keeps the door closed most of the time, regardless of whether he's in or out. John understands the impulse—he and Alex keep their door closed all the time, mostly because they live in squalor and don't want to subject Laf to their mess, even in passing. Laf's room is neater than John expected; his mess is confined to the edges, around the walls and next to one side of the bed. The wall above his desk is covered with unframed photos of Adrienne, the Washingtons, Herc, Alex, and John. On the opposite wall are some framed photos of Paris and the French countryside, clearly amateur pictures—these were taken by someone Laf knows and given as a gift, John would bet. A poster from an Oxmo Puccino show in Paris is over his bed, next to a Guizmo album cover. His dresser is covered in a mix of books and parapsych equipment and there are piles of folded clothes in front of his closet.

Laf himself is sitting in his desk chair, trying valiantly to look like he hasn't been crying.

John recognizes that face. He's seen it in the mirror often enough.

He closes the door and cautiously approaches Laf, sitting on the edge of his bed and holding out the burrito. "I stopped at Tito's on the way home."

"Thanks," Laf says. He clears his throat again and scrubs at his eyes with his fist. "I apologize."

"Nothing to apologize for, dude," John says. 

"No, no," Lafayette insists, "I think I was rude to you and Alexander earlier."

"Bro, if anyone deserves to be snapped at for being a shithead, it's me and Alex. Even if we weren't doing something specifically shitty today, I'm positive we've done shitty things in the past that you haven't bothered to criticize."

Lafayette manages a smile. "That is true."

He doesn't say anything more and for a moment, they just sit in silence. Laf studies the foil of his burrito, turning it slowly in his long fingers. John tries not to fidget.

"Anyway," he finally says, "you wanna talk about what's bothering you?"

Laf looks back up at him, eyebrows near his hairline. "John Laurens? Asking me to talk about my feelings without doing several shots first?"

John shrugs. "Alex is rubbing off on me. I mean, not right now, much to his disappointment, but generally—"

Lafayette groans and twirls once in his chair as if trying to get away from John. "Alexander is right, your lines are truly terrible."

"He fronts, he totally loves them," John says. 

"He loves _you_."

"Same difference." John watches Lafayette put the burrito on his desk and then fiddle with a flash drive that looks like a dinosaur. He wants to talk, John can tell, and he will—he's not like John, who embraces any excuse to change the subject and would never talk about _anything_ if he didn't have Alex to ease it out of him. Laf just needs the space to get his thoughts in order, the opening to share them without burdening anyone else. It can be a time-intensive process, but John owes him at least the patience to wait and listen.

"You flirted with everyone that summer," Laf says. "Me, Herc, that summer bartender, that rude boy who worked with you at Staples. Everyone." Goddammit, John probably _also_ owes Laf enough that he needs to engage in this part of the conversation and not pretend he can hear the dryer buzzing and make a quick getaway.

"Yeah," John says. "Pretty much. Until Alex."

"You were lonely," Laf says.

"I was—" John swallows back the lump in his throat, the hazy memory of those days. When he's like that—sad, numb, listless—his brain becomes little more than swiss cheese. He remembers bits and pieces of the summer, but it's hard to pin most of it down. He doesn't even remember the names of half the guys he chatted up. He doesn't even remember the name of the guy he worked with at Staples. "—I was something."

"Hercules and I—we felt very...." Laf's lips curl downwards and John recognizes that face. It's not the 'I can't figure out the exact right English word I want' face, it's the 'I can't figure out how to say this politely' face. "We were exasperated, but in a...a superior sort of way." He winces. That wasn't how he wanted to say it. John waves him on, though. "But I also felt a kinship with that. That loneliness." 

It wasn't quite loneliness, but that's a much deeper conversation than John would like to have today or pretty much ever, so he pushes onwards. "You miss Adrienne."

"That's part of it." Laf sighs. "You met Alexander and I'm happy for you—I love you both like brothers, like family. But you have something easy and you had it so immediately. You were strangers and the next day you were best friends."

"It's not always...easy." John makes himself say the words, pushes them past the anxiety roiling in his stomach.

"I know," Lafayette says quickly. "I just mean—things with Adrienne have always been...complicated. She is not my girlfriend." The look he gives John keeps him from protesting. "But we do...we've always been close. We've always—it's there, between us. This unspoken...whatever it is. However it can be defined. But she is not my girlfriend, she's allowed to date other people, to spend time with other people, to do other things. I am too, of course, but I don't want to."

"And she does?" John asks once it's clear Laf isn't going to add anything further.

"I don't know," he admits. "All I know is that she does it, though it never seems to last long. And I don't know if it's like you—if she's lonely. If it's because I'm so far away. Or if it is because she's bored or she likes the attention or...whatever else it may be. Perhaps she doesn't care for me in the way I care for her."

"I don't think that's true." John squeezes his shoulder. 

"It's just...difficult. It is difficult to be here when she's there, it's difficult to see her Instagram and Twitter and know she's out with other people. It's difficult to hear her talk about how transferring to Morristown could be good for her career and then have her not follow through. It's difficult to go over and spend the holiday with her when the rest of my family is here. It's difficult to be away from the Washingtons for a family holiday. It's difficult to have to choose between the two of them."

Laf covers his face with his hands and lets out a shuddering sigh. John's never been great at this sort of thing, really. He's lucked out over the years—his best friend when he was younger had no compunctions throwing herself at him and crying on his shoulder and babbling her problems. She didn't expect him to have answers, she just wanted a comforting hug and a sympathetic ear. Alexander's lack of experience with interpersonal relationships manifests itself in a desire to dissect all of his feelings and the feelings of people around him. He makes John talk and when John's upset him, he tells John exactly why and exactly what he needs. There's an intuition that's needed here that John just doesn't have. He doesn't know what to say or do when people are upset. He can't even project what he wants on other people, because all he wants is to hide away from the world until everything is okay again.

"I'm sorry," he says finally. "I'm really sorry, Laf. I wish I had a solution. I wish she could come here or you could like, teleport between Paris and Morristown." 

Lafayette laughs sadly. "I wish that, too." He drops his hands and pinches the bridge of his nose. With one last shuddering breath, he opens his eyes again. They're wet and red and John tries not to twitch or look away. He definitely wants to be here for Laf. He definitely wants to help. He's definitely doing a better job than Alex would be doing. But, Jesus, this is awkward.

"I'm sure we don't make it easier, being the way we are," John continues. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Laf says. "You're in love. You're happy, and I'm happy for you."

"But I've known Alex since August and you've known Adrienne since you were a baby," John says, thinking back to Alex's conclusion from that morning. 

"There are days that it's difficult," Laf says diplomatically. He wipes at his eyes and rubs his forehead with the heel of his hand. "I am making the last of the arrangements to leave. Patsy arrived at George and Martha's this morning and it's difficult enough to leave without having people begging me to stay. I want to stay. I want to celebrate with George and Martha and Patsy and Jack. I want to celebrate with you and Alex. Adrienne's parents—they were always good to me. But meeting George and Martha...it's different. For the first time in so long, I feel like I have a real family again. My mother loved Christmas, loved celebrating, loved the festivities. It was hard for me to embrace the season again after she died."

 _Mrs. Washington_ loves Christmas. Like, a lot. Things begin to clear up for John at a much faster rate.

"And Adrienne's family...doesn't?" John asks. "Like Christmas, I mean?"

"They do not dislike it," Lafayette says after a moment of careful consideration. "They celebrate. It is not important to them. They knew it was important to my mother, so they tried to put an effort in when I was a child, but it wasn't the same, so eventually they stopped. There will be a meal, gifts, some visits with family, but that's it."

"While back here in Jersey, Mrs. W has bought every last string of lights and box of candy canes in the tri-state area," John says slowly.

"Martha made me love Christmas again," Laf confirms. "So I am missing Christmas with my family to be with the family I never get to see and the girl that I love. But if I were to stay, I would be missing one of the few chances I get to see that family and I won't see Adrienne again until summer, if she even decides to stay in France for the summer."

"And all of this is happening while we're making out in front of the coffeemaker," John concludes.

Laf nods, miserable. "I don't mean to stop you from being affectionate in your own apartment," he says.

"But it's your place too and you're in a weird place right now, I get it," John says. Laf nods again and John wishes there was something, _anything_ he could do to help. He thinks hard, flips through a million stupid suggestions and possibilities, but short of flying the whole Washington family to Paris or convincing Adrienne to fly here at the last minute, he's not sure he can help, aside from maybe not sticking his hand down Alex's pants in the living room where anyone can see. Theoretically, he and Alex could spend the next three or so days until Laf leaves being distant and cordial instead of their usual constant physical affection, but he has to draw the line somewhere, and Laf isn't the only one who feels weird about the holidays. John needs to be able to hug his boyfriend if he wants to.

"I'm sorry," John says again. "I wish—" He's not even sure what he wishes: it's not fair to wish that Adrienne would stop going out and having fun because someone who isn't even her boyfriend is far away and misses her. It's not feasible to wish that Lafayette could split the holiday between Paris and Morristown. It's not honest to wish that he and Alex could manage to be less over the top in their own home. "—I wish there was something I could do to help."

That, at least, is fair and feasible and honest.

"I know," Lafayette says. "Some things can't be helped. Some things can't be changed. We suffer through them and we move on."

That's a little melodramatic, but John was literally disinherited by his father after he blurted out his desire to go against his planned future at a family dinner, so he doesn't really have room to talk.

"Yeah, well."

"But I appreciate it," Laf says. "That you noticed. That you care."

John shrugs. "Alex does too, just so you know. We were talking about it, but I figured I know you a little better when it comes to shit like this and Alex can be...."

"Alex can be very Alex," Laf says delicately.

"Exactly."

Laf smiles at that, just a little, and then abruptly sighs and slumps back into his chair. "My burrito is probably cold by now."

Conversation over. Excellent. John's not sure that he helped any, but at least he did his part and he can go back out and eat his dinner without feeling worried and guilty.

"Mine too," John says. "I got side-tracked before I came in here, anyway—Alex is trying to throw together a new feature for the blog and we were throwing stuff against the wall to see what stuck."

"Is he looking for topic suggestions?"

"Nah, we already have a topic," John says. "He's gonna talk to people who got into parapsych after personal loss because they interacted with the spirit of a family member or in an effort to interact with the spirit of a family member. Now he's trying to come up with people to interview about the topic."

Laf raises his hand with a half smile. "He can talk to me."

John doesn't know why he's so shocked--they had entertained this as a possibility less than a hour ago. Still, he has to blink at Lafayette for a moment before he's able to form a full sentence. "Really? You got into parapsych to communicate with your family?"

"The other way around," Laf says. "When I was young, before my parents died, my grandmother's spirit used to speak to me. 'Speak' is maybe not the correct way to put it--I could see her and interact with her, but it was hard to hear if she was actually saying anything. It stuck with me over the years, obviously." He pauses and frowns. "I...can't pretend that I hadn't hoped my parents would come to me in the same way. They never did, of course, but...the idea was there. But yes, communicating with my grandmother was what led me to parapsychology and to audio analysis in general. I wanted to hear what she had been trying to say to me."

John grins. "That's really fucking cool and exactly what Alex is looking for. He's gonna lose his shit."

"I'm happy to speak on it in more detail," Lafayette says. "I would prefer to stay anonymous should he write about me, however."

"We can go talk to him about it," John says. "I'm pretty sure he had his heart set on having his dick sucked, but you know him--the only thing he likes more than sex is being a nerd."

"Followed by you, I presume."

John snorts. "Let me rearrange that a little. I think it goes me, being a nerd, sex, coffee, yelling at people, gummy bears."

"I don't know about that," Laf says. "I have seen both the way he eats gummy bears and the frustration that mounts when he's yelling at people. He may like gummy bears more."

"Gummy bears _are_ more likely to listen to him yell," John says. "Let's ask him." He hops to his feet and opens the door to Laf's room. "Baby, which do you like more: yelling at people or gummy bears?" he shouts out into the living room.

"Depends on who I'm yelling at!" Alex calls back.

Behind John, Lafayette smothers a laugh and follows him out into the hallway, then slings an affectionate arm over his shoulder as they move towards the living room. He's not stupid enough to think this is a solution by any means--Laf's still gonna have to go to Paris, the Washingtons are still gonna miss him, he's still gonna have to leave Adrienne at the beginning of January, and Adrienne's still gonna go out and have fun with people who aren't him. But, like he said, they'll suffer through the next few weeks and move on. January and February might be rough, but spring is coming to shed a little light on their days and John will do his part to make sure that light covers Lafayette as best he can.

**Author's Note:**

> Have a safe and happy new year, guys. 2016 was a garbage fire and 2017 looks headed in that direction, but take care of yourselves and take care of the people you love and put a little more good into the world than you take out of it and we'll get through this mess together. Thanks for all the support over the last several months--it means a lot to me ♥


End file.
